


And That's That

by Bunky_Barnes



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternative ending from the movies, Angst, Bucky is kind of an alcoholic, Close to the same, Forbidden Love, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mentions of Peggy - Freeform, Mentions of alcoholism, Mutual Pining, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Skinny!Steve, Steve's Pov, Time Skips, Very close
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 19:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2282379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunky_Barnes/pseuds/Bunky_Barnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love is such a lousy game to play with each other, especially when only one wants to play.</p>
<p>Basically it's back and forth pining over the years, Bucky dies on the train, but the end is a tad different. Mostly from Steve's POV but it dabbles in Bucky's POV near his death.</p>
<p>WARNINGS: Slight abuse, Bucky smacks Steve around once. Back hands him really but that's all. Strong homophobic language also.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And That's That

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on Tumblr a while back under the title Forbidden Fruit Is The Sweetest or something along those lines, but I changed some stuff and fixed it up a bit. 
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at bunky-barnes.
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated, enjoy!

**_February 6 th 1942, Brooklyn New York_ **

It was midnight when Steve started his coughing again, it hurt as much listening to him as it did to actually be doing the coughing. Bucky lay awake all night listening for his shaky little breaths on the other side of the wall. He put his bed right next to the paper thin wall for that reason, so he could hear the slow and steady breaths of sleep or the short quick gasps of panic that gripped him when he had an asthma attack.

This wasn’t the first time Steve was sick like this, the poor kid was allergic to everything from peanuts to the very air itself and his weak immune system didn’t exactly help ward anything off. Eventually Bucky would get out of bed, and go check on Steve to find him bent over struggling for air or spitting phlegm in a bucket he kept by the bed because he refused his inhaler or medication.

 This night was no acceptation; Bucky opened the door to find Steve propped up on the pillows chest heaving. His thin pale face was frozen into a grimace. Bucky pulled up the stool at the make shift desk of wood crates next to Steve’s bed. The once golden straw colored hair was dull and stuck to Steve’s forehead. But that didn’t stop him from opening his eyes and giving Bucky a small smile.

“Hey Buck-o, I’m sorry did I wake you with my old man hacking?” he asked voice hoarse, shifting to sit up on his pillows. Every breath that went though Steve caused a faint rattle. He took the faded flower kerchief from under his pillow and coughed a few more times, small speckles of dried blood covered it. From fights in back alleys or when he was simply so sick he hacked up blood. He never was good and taking care of himself, that's why he had Bucky.

Bucky was quick to respond “Naw, I was already up.” He lied playing it off using his usual smirk “Neighbors are at it again, he’s leaving tomorrow and so they’re fucking like rabbits.”

“Only you would notice that Bucky.” Steve’s smile grew before he started coughing. Small at first and then hard enough it wracked his body leaving him without energy and breathless. “At least they have each other. Someone to call their own ya know? It's more than what I have, can't even get a date.”            

Bucky set his jaw, “There’s plenty of dames that would love-“

“To dance with a 90 pound runt?” Steve cut in, smile gone and replaced by thinly pressed lips. “If they exist id like to meet them," he turned his head and looked out the window. Brow knitted together with a neat frown, a look of distaste that Bucky had come to know all too well lately. " Every girl you bring home has two different looks in her eyes, lust and pity. Guess which one I get Buck, go ahead. Guess.”

“For all the bitching I hear about women from you I’d think you were a fuckin' queer if I didn’t know you better Steve.” Bucky snorted.

It didn’t seem possible but Steve paled even more, he felt sick to his stomach and it wasn’t from any form of illness.

Bucky took note and all playfulness was gone from his eyes, “What’s wrong Steve?” He took a hand and put it to the blondes forehead “Jesus you’re burning up”

Steve just stared at the other numbly, all these years of pining after Bucky, living with him, sharing everything, saving each other, dropping every hint he could, he just didn’t get it.

“What, what is it Steve, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sick.”

“No shit Steve. You’re always sick.’

“That’s not what I mean. I’m sick, in the head.”

The room felt too small and Bucky too close. Steve couldn't handle it, the look of curiosity and confusion from the other, the honest and genuine concern.

“What?”

“I’m tired, good night Bucky.”

Steve sunk down under the covers barely raising the blankets. And that was that.

**_One Month Later March 6 th 1942_ **

Steve sat on the window sill and looked down at the street looking for someone remotely interesting to draw. He sighed, he was finally done being bed ridden and he had nowhere to go, and nothing to do but draw. Alas, Steve only had two pencils left and his eraser was little more than a nub. Bucky had to stop stealing from work, Mr. O’Neil was starting to notice the vanishing pencils and invisible office supplies.

Bucky opened the door to the tiny stuffy apartment and smiled when Steve looked up to see him walk in. “I come bearing gifts.” He stated and showed him the plain brown paper wrapped up with the blandest twine known to man, but Steve was still curious. He was always curious when Bucky had a gift, money was hard to come by so he was creative. Nobody made a better surprise than Bucky.

Bucky handed it off to Steve who started to rip it off the minute it was in his hand. He got past the paper and let it drop to the floor. A brand new inhaler. They couldn’t afford this. How had he gotten this? “Bucky I can’t take this.” Steve shook his head and tried to give it back “Take it back to whoever you got it from and buy yourself and some dame a coke.”

“You don’t like it? Look its blue, isn’t blue your favorite color? It’s the best one I could afford but I can get you better-“disappointment crept on Bucky’s face and he looked down at the box in his hands. Sadness and disappointment was not a familiar look on Bucky’s face, and it pulled at Steve’s heart to see him like this. But he’d rather see Bucky enjoy spending his money on something fun, like getting laid, rather than on sickly Steve. “Is it not what you wanted?”

“No Buck its fine, it's nice, probably the nicest thing in this apartment right now. Well besides you. But I can’t accept this; you should spend your money on something important.”

“You are important, you’re important to me. You’re my best friend Steve, what would I do without you?” Bucky looked like a kicked dog, like he had been betrayed. But his comment was like taking a knife to the chest.

Steve let his arms drop to his sides “What. What are you- are you trying to say that you. You love me?”

Bucky’s laughter made tears sting at Steve’s eyes “What? No, you’re such a loon Rogers.” Steve was sure his laughter could be heard all the way upstairs, with his heart in his gut he pulled on a smile and laughed too.

“Almost got you there didn’t I?”

“Sure did punk, Jesus you’re funny.”

**_Two Weeks Later_ **

Things took a turn for the worst when Steve blacked out and slammed face first into the end table while Bucky was at work. He came home to a puddle of blood and the radio playing softly. The old widow who throws water on Bucky when he smokes or kisses a girl outside on the fire escape heard him scream from next door. She walked in on Bucky shouting and shaking Steve’s unconscious body.

“Steve? Come on, wake up. Stevie come on open your eyes Steve, I’m home its okay. I won’t leave ever again. You’re okay. Steven?” Each attempt was getting more desperate, voice getting louder, eyes brimming with tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You hear me? I’m sorry Steve, please wake up. Please?”

The widow had called the police and it wasn’t long before they showed up and took limp Steve from his arms and had to restrain him while they took him out on a stretcher.

After everyone left Bucky fished out the bottle he kept under the floor board in his closet and drank himself to sleep in Steve’s bed.

**_Three Days Later_ **

When Steve got out of the hospital Bucky was nowhere to be seen, when he got home the land lady said she hadn’t seen him since Steve’s accident. The apartment was a mess so he set to cleaning it even though bending over made his head throb. He wanted to do something nice for Bucky in exchange for his screaming that technically saved his life. Really it wasn’t a valid reason but he needed an excuse to do something.

Bucky stumbled in around midnight wasted and didn’t notice Steve asleep in bed when he slipped in himself. Steve didn’t say anything; it wasn’t uncommon for them to share a bed when it was cold. But it wasn’t cold. And yet somehow Bucky’s bare warm chest still seemed inviting. He pressed his back into Bucky’s chest and moved his arm so it was around him. It was fake. Staged. And yet felt so real and right. Bucky’s breathing in is ear and thrum of his heart right on his shoulder made the ache in his head go away. Even if his breath did stink like whiskey.

Steve woke up to the sunlight filtering in from the dirty window and Bucky still pressed against his back, right where he had left him. Steve moved slowly, he was almost sure in his drunken haze Bucky wasn’t about to wake up any time soon. But he was still careful, he was always careful. You had to be, with things like this.

He was about to shuffle out to make a pot of coffee when something caught his eye. A notebook, tossed carelessly on the desk, left wide open. Steve poured over the drawings. A coffee cup, the kitchen window of their apartment, a tree in the park. Not exactly expertly drawn, and actually a little childish, but cute. Steve turned the page. A sketch of a house, nothing big or elaborate but small, and simple. Bucky’s hand writing scrawled down the side. Cost, colour, location, area, square footage. It was labeled ‘A Home of Our Own’. And Steve wondered who was included in the ‘our’ part. Bucky never had steady girls. Just flings, the closest thing to going steady he had was fucking once a week off and on.

“Curiosity killed the cat Steve.” The words were hot in his ear, inches away.

Steve jumped and felt heat rush to his face as he rushed to turn the page. “Christ Buck I figured you were still asleep,” he stammered quickly.

“You figured wrong.”

“I guess so.” Steve tried to scoot out of the uncomfortable Bucky-desk sandwich he was in and retreat to the safety of the open kitchen only to be grabbed by the belt and hauled into a bone crushing hug, wrapping Steve in the others warm embrace.

“You scared me there for a bit kiddo, I thought you died for a bit.” He murmured hand moving up to stroke Steve’s hair

Something clicked in Steve, hearing him say that. He shoved Bucky with all he had, Bucky only stepped back. Probably more from surprise than his force.  Hurt and confusion were spreading on his face.

“Friends don’t do this Buck, they don’t. They don’t share beds when it’s not cold. Not when there’s a bed next door. Not even when they’re drunk. And friends don’t keep secrets, so I’m done, I can’t do it anymore. I’m a fruit, I’m gay Bucky. A big flaming fruity queer alright?” Steve snapped anger escaping out his mouth faster than he could think.

“Don’t say that. Don’t you fucking say that.” Bucky growled narrowing his eyes.

“Say what, that I’m queer? That I like boys, huh, Buck?  Oh I’m sorry do I make you uncomfortable because I like sucking dick?” He challenged poking the others chest closing the space between them “Huh?”

Bucky slapped his hand away “Shut the hell up before someone hears you.” He hissed, spitting out the words like they tasted bad in his mouth.

“You wanna know how I found out that I’m a faggot? You, I’m in love with you.”

A crashing blow from Bucky’s left hand sent Steve sprawling on the floor with a thump. He clutched his throbbing cheek and knew it was going to leave a deep purple bruise. Bucky’s face was twisted in anger, but it quickly changed to disappointment, fear, and sadness when he saw the first tear roll down Steve’s cheek. “Stevie I-“He started.

“Don’t. Shut up. I clearly know what you think about me now James.” Steve spat leering at him.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Bull shit.” Steve got up off the floor “I’ve stood up to bullies my whole god damn life, and the one person I counted on to never bully me and keep me safe, failed. I thought you cared, I thought you were different. I guess I was wrong. Wasn't I?”

Steve got as far as touching the door knob before Bucky pushed his back up to it and kissed him, urgent, panicked, needing.”Don’t hate me” he almost whispered when he broke the kiss, leaving Steve wild with anger and confusion. “Don’t leave me Stevie, I almost lost you once, don’t make me do it twice.”

Steve looked up at him with tight lips and punishing eyes, unmoving.

“I’ve been keeping secrets too, all those bullies. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you more. If anyone found out, if anyone knew, they’d beat the shit outa you Steve. We can’t do this. I can’t do it. I just wanna protect you.”

And that’s how he left it, they never talked about it again. Steve knew he was right, nobody could know. They could loose their apartment, Bucky his job. It wasn’t worth it. That’s what they told themselves, but that didn’t take the sting out of it. They were just forbidden fruit for each other.

**_Two Years Later, 1944 Allied Camp, Germany_ **

It wasn’t long before Steve moved on.  Bucky went back to chasing women. It wasn’t the same. The first time he threw clothes at the girl and told her to get out. But it didn’t take him long to get back in the swing of it and put on his old charm. Little lies was all it took. He'll come back. When it's safe we can go back to before, like old times. These girls are just temporary, they help keep the secret. Just imagine it's Steve under you, it's Steve saying your name, Steve's hot mouth all over you.

Bucky eventually realized he knew exactly how Steve felt, watching the one you love with someone else. He finally understood how it burned to see them smile and laugh with someone else. Knowing that should be your place. How could he blame Steve for wanting to be happy, and actually getting it. Bucky had told him no, and Steve was never one to push things. Before the serum Bucky never had to worry, Steve was right, nobody wanted a 90 pound asthmatic with a limp. Accept Bucky.

But now, now Steve was the play boy. And it hurt, ached like a gun shot. Accept maybe if it was a gun shot Bucky would bleed out and have an end to his suffering. In stead Bucky had to suffer from a distance, and hope maybe if he did get shot, Steve would grant him a kiss good bye.

**_One Week Later, Hydra Train_ **

It was unfortunate that Steve was too far away to give him that good bye kiss, but at least he knew that Steve was going to be okay. Bucky was happy he was able to die protecting Steve.

“Come on Buck give me your hand!” The blonde stretched out his arm.

"Promise you’ll marry that Peggy gal you’re sweet on, use the house plan in my notebook. Have a family.”

“I'm not promising you shit. Give me your hand god damn it!” Steve cursed over the roar of the train.

“Don’t hate me Steve, I’m sorry.” The bar Bucky gripped so tightly groaned from his weight, and dropped already giving way. There was fear in his eyes, when the bar let go and he fell.

It was all in slow motion, Steve screaming, train rushing, falling, snow, the mountains, and howling air. Then nothing, and yet something.

Bucky would have been glad they removed his memories, if he had the option he would have taken it. It took away the hurt. It didn’t fill the hole, but took it away. That was good enough to him. Bucky may have forgotten, but Steve never did.

Steve saw it in every young couple, gay or straight, the adoration he once shared with Bucky, and it hurt. So he looked away, pretending not to see it. Most just figured he was bashful, old fashioned even, a prude, but that wasn’t it at all. It hurt too much to look. It was pulling out the stitches that kept him together one by one.

Occasionally Steve found himself at Bucky’s grave, he talked to himself for hours spilling his guts. How he missed him, how Bucky would love to meet his team mate Natasha, how Steve built Bucky’s dream house. And at the end he said the same thing. Every time he left.

_“ Ya know buck, you cross my mind from time to time, everyone else forgot, but I never will. Promise."_

               


End file.
